


Fight (for Me)

by wednesday



Category: Vampyr (Video Game)
Genre: Blood, Fighting As Foreplay, First Time, M/M, Minor Internalized Homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:40:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23599990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wednesday/pseuds/wednesday
Summary: “Peace, I am only here to talk,” Reid says, from a safe distance.Too bad for Reid, he's found Geoffrey in the worst sort of mood and not at all willing totalk.
Relationships: Geoffrey McCullum/Jonathan Reid
Comments: 4
Kudos: 177
Collections: Smut 4 Smut 2020





	Fight (for Me)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [linndechir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/linndechir/gifts).



The fight is almost over by the time Reid shows up. He traps the blinker Skal with one of his shadow tricks and Geoffrey uses the moment to behead the leech. That should have been it, most likely, but Geoffrey’s too angry, too ready for a fight. He can feel the taste of his own blood in his mouth. He hasn’t seen Reid for weeks, and now the good doctor has seen fit to show up and interrupt Geoffrey’s fight, just like last time they met in this cemetery. 

Reid steps closer with, curse him, a _smile_ on his inhumanly pale face, and the moment he’s within reach, Geoffrey swings his sword. He misses – shadows wrap around Reid almost instantly and he jumps back. 

“Peace, I am only here to talk,” Reid says, from a safe distance this time. He’s dressed up, as always. With the way the fight has made Geoffrey feel more taut than the string of his favorite crossbow, he can’t stop that thought in time. Reid looks good, the bastard, better than any man should, and definitely too well for a leech. Geoffrey really wishes for his crossbow now so he could put a few bolts into Reid, improve that neatly tailored look right up. 

He raises his sword, points it at Reid and with a smile that’s all teeth takes a step forward. Reid’s made the unfortunate mistake of going deeper into the crypt when retreating, and there’s only so far he can retreat that way before he runs out of space. Of course the moment it happens, the leech uses the shadows to jump away again. Now that there’s nothing standing between Reid and the exit, Geoffrey assumes the leech will take his mood as a cue to leave him alone. 

“Geoffrey,” Reid tries again, some reproach in his voice, like Geoffrey’s the unreasonable one here. Like they shouldn’t be fighting to death this very moment, just for what they both are. 

“I’m not in the mood for your tricks tonight. Fight me or leave me alone, leech.” 

Reid doesn’t offer any answer, but he doesn’t leave either. For a while he watches Geoffrey in silence, his monstrous red eyes glinting in the faint light. Then, when Geoffrey runs out of patience and once again tries to get in a good strike with his sword, Reid disappears in the shadows. 

For a moment Geoffrey thinks that’s it and almost feels regret, but then Reid reappears out of shadow right beside him and with a single hit nearly disarms him. 

“As you wish,” Reid says, and once again uses the shadows to avoid a sword to his side. 

Geoffrey does his best to bring Reid down, and he hates admitting it even to himself, but his best is not very good, not against Reid. His sword never hits Reid’s flesh, though a couple of times it gets close. He does manage to punch Reid in the face, when he jumps out of shadow too close. But a single punch is pitiful when compared against Reid, who leaves bruise after bruise on Geoffrey. 

The pain only enrages Geoffrey more. So does the thrill of fear he feels every time Reid’s claws swipe at air just close enough that he knows Reid could have torn him apart, if he’d wanted to. 

After their first fight Geoffrey had deemed Reid too strong to take down by a single hunter, but now, now he doesn’t know if he could be taken down at all – as minutes pass in this dance of Geoffrey trying and failing to draw Reid’s blood, he realizes Reid is toying with him. It seems like no effort at all for the leech. He pulls all of his own punches, and seeing how easy it comes to him now, Geoffrey gets the uncomfortable suspicion Reid had been doing it before, during their last fight, as well. It’s only more obvious now because Reid has gotten too good at it to make it look natural. 

And here Geoffrey is, having challenged him to a fight in a secluded crypt, in the middle of the night for no reason but that he was itching for a fight. 

Well, better Reid than anyone else, he supposes – Reid at least is the kind of monster that will let him go when he’s done with this game. But then, this time he had the chance to leave and chose to fight anyway. Maybe he expects Geoffrey to be more reasonable when he no longer has the strength to fight. If so, Reid doesn’t know him at all. 

Still, Geoffrey wonders if maybe this time Reid means for the fight to go differently. Geoffrey feels cold dread at the thought of Reid ending this game by draining him dry. And there must be something very wrong with him, something that he wishes he could blame Reid for, because even that image in his mind – Reid with his fangs deep into Geoffrey’s neck – doesn’t stop the feeling of excitement from slowly overtaking the dread as he keeps fighting a foe that’s more shadow than man. 

Then he misses Reid once again and misjudges the path of Reid’s retreat. The next thing he knows is the feeling of claws against his neck. Reid is standing behind him, close enough that Geoffrey can feel him through the layers of his clothes. It isn’t warmth that he feels, but some kind of alarm in every cell of his body at danger being so near. 

The only part they’re touching are the sharp tips of Reid’s claws, four against the side of his neck, right against all the veins, and one under his chin, forcing his head up. They are resting against his fragile human skin deceptively lightly. A single move from Reid would have them rip through Geoffrey’s flesh. They both know it. 

Geoffrey would love to try and escape, just to spite Reid, but what must be his very last shred of sanity keeps him still. 

With his other hand Reid takes hold of Geoffrey’s wrist and then tightens his grip until the pain forces Geoffrey to let go of his sword. The moment he does, Reid lets up. Then he starts drawing slow circles with his thumb, massaging Geoffrey’s wrist. 

It feels–– It makes a shiver run down Geoffrey’s spine. He is short of breath from the fight, his heart racing and lungs burning, and for a moment he’s almost grateful for all that, as there’s some hope Reid doesn’t notice the way Geoffrey’s heart jumps at that too tender touch. 

“I win,” Reid says, and he sounds out of breath as well. Then Geoffrey feels him lean even closer, so close his cool breath brushes against the very edge of Geoffrey’s jaw, and whispers, “You’re mine now.” 

At that Geoffrey can not hide the catch in his breath. It’s as if Reid’s somehow plucked the words from the most deprived parts of Geoffrey’s mind and made them real. Does Reid know, has he always had some way of knowing _this_ about Geoffrey? He wants to curse and drive a stake into Reid’s cold dead heart. He wants to forget the hazy images put together by Reid’s words and the excitement of the fight still running through his blood. 

He wants, he realizes when Reid lets go and disappears, for Reid to make good on his words. For something that Geoffrey would really rather not know about himself, it feels not surprising at all. 

Reid steps out of shadow in front of him, just a step away. He looks like he’s attempting to appear as composed as ever, but his eyes are too bright, his expression too alive. He doesn’t manage to hide his own triumphant joy at the win. Seems he likes fighting just a little too much as well. 

Then Reid takes in all of what he couldn’t see before – the way Geoffrey’s face is flush with blood, and whatever the look on his face, it must be far too revealing. So is the way his trousers don’t quite hide his reaction to the excitement. He’d blame it on the fight getting his blood up, but that would be only half the truth. The other half is all Reid. 

For a moment Reid almost looks shocked and then conflicted, like this isn’t _exactly_ what he meant. 

And then Geoffrey realizes, like a punch to the stomach, that maybe he didn’t – maybe all Reid wanted was some claim to a moment of Geoffrey’s time, for whatever he came here to talk about. The fire of excitement turns into cold lead faster than Geoffrey can blink. 

He takes a step back. If there’s some way to leave with any of his dignity intact, he doesn’t see it, but he’s leaving just the same. 

It takes another step for Reid to understand his plan, if running away can be called a plan. In a flash Reid is into Geoffrey’s space again, hand on his neck. Again. There are no claws this time, but Reid has no need for claws to be dangerous. His fingers are ice cold against Geoffrey’s skin, and still far too tender for such a threat. 

For a moment Geoffrey considers protesting, fighting Reid again. But the expression on Reid’s face, well– Reid seems to have gotten over his shock very fast. 

He trails his fingers down Geoffrey’s neck, pushes down the scarf, pushes at the edge of his shirt, all the while not taking his eyes off Geoffrey’s face. It’s all too slow for Geoffrey, leaves too much space to doubt and reconsider, and he knows himself enough to know he’ll do both and more, if given the chance now. 

So he pulls Reid forward by the lapels of his jacket and into a kiss. It’s been a long time, years since Geoffrey’s last kissed a man, and this now feels like a jolt of lightning. Reid doesn’t hesitate and that’s good, that finally thaws the last of the icy dread at having misunderstood so completely. 

In truth Reid does more than just not hesitate – he kisses back with no care for the sharpness of his own teeth and reminds Geoffrey of the way his mouth is already bloodied by doing his best to taste every drop of that blood, lick all of it from Geoffrey’s lips and teeth and tongue. 

By some trick, for it cannot be natural to still have the mind for anything else right then, Reid also manages to unbutton Geoffrey’s coat and shirt. Geoffrey only notices when the coolness of Reid’s hands on his chest makes him so breathless he feels dizzy. He has to break the kiss to get some air. Reid uses the moment to push him back until the backs of Geoffrey’s legs hit something hard, the edge of some poor sod’s sarcophagus that Geoffrey hopes is just decorative. 

A line of images flashes through his mind –– _Reid bending him over the cold stone casket, pushing his pants down just far enough to fuck into him, holding him down and taking him fast and hard enough to make him scream_ –– and then the Reid in his imagination bites, spills his blood and the image dissolves. 

He lets Reid push him anyway. Sits down on the plain stone slab, so cold that he can feel it through his clothes, and looks up at Reid. 

The red in Reid’s eyes looks almost black now. The shadows seem deeper behind him, like they’re about to wrap around him. He is more of a monster now than he ever was in a fight, with hunger so starkly clear in his face. 

Geoffrey feels the familiar fear-anger-excitement at the sight, but even that only adds to the lust already drumming through him. His shirt is open and his clothes still feel too tight. For a moment he tries to think, to remember if this is when he can open his own trousers, if he’s allowed, but then he shakes the thought away and does it anyway. He takes his own cock in hand as Reid watches him. If there’s some etiquette to this that he’s forgotten or more likely never learned in the first place, he hopes Reid finds it annoying as hell that Geoffrey’s not keeping to it. 

Beyond not wanting to wait for Reid, Geoffrey’s cock is so hard it’s aching. He adjusts his grip, strokes himself a few times – four, five strokes and suddenly Reid stops him, done with just watching, it seems. Reid straddles him and kisses him again, this time definitely drawing blood. Geoffrey doesn’t even mind the prick of pain, because Reid also puts his own hand on Geoffrey’s cock. That hand is cold, but Reid’s grip is wonderfully firm. Fuck, the feeling of a cool hand moving against his overheated skin is so distracting that Geoffrey doesn’t even flinch when Reid’s kisses trail to the side, when his cool lips press against his throat. 

He does flinch, when Reid follows that up by dragging the sharp points of his fangs down the side of his neck. Reid doesn’t bite, though, and just a twist of his wrist at the end of a stroke is enough to distract Geoffrey once again. He makes some effort to unbuckle and unbutton Reid’s trousers. Even through the layers of clothes he can feel Reid is just as hard as him. 

Then Reid lets go and Geoffrey’s on the edge of begging in that first moment. 

Despite the cold all around him, there’s a fine sheen of sweat on his skin already. 

Reid gets up, pushes down his own trousers and pants, all the way down to his ankles. There he pauses, expression annoyed at having to deal with something as bothersome as shoes. Geoffrey laughs at the sight – what a picture it makes, Doctor Reid, still in his coat, pants around his ankles, cock heavy and hard. The even more annoyed glance Reid throws his way before kicking off one of his shoes promises some retribution for taking amusement at Reid’s expense. 

It only takes Reid seconds to resolve the issue of clothes, and then he’s back, straddling Geoffrey again, his mouth on Geoffrey’s. For a moment Geoffrey feels some concern at Reid’s skin touching the cold stone. Then his hands land on Reid’s thighs, slide up to his hips and Geoffrey realizes Reid is almost as cold. 

Geoffrey pulls him closer by his hips, rocks up against Reid a few times, and for that the cold isn’t a barrier at all. It should be strange, feeling another man’s cock press against his own; he’s always expected to feel some wrongness when doing such a thing, and yet he doesn’t, not even a little. All he feels is guilt at how right it feels to have them be pressed so close together, to have Reid’s lips on his skin. The guilt, just like fear, only adds fire to the molten lust running up and down his spine. 

Reid breaks the kiss, leans back and spits into his hand. Geoffrey leans back as well, barely manages to keep his eyes open as Reid very thoroughly spreads the spit and blood all over Geoffrey’s cock. Then, faster than Geoffrey can understand what it must mean, Reid rises up no his knees, lowers himself down–– Fuck, Geoffrey can’t keep his eyes open then, but he tries, fuck, he tries so hard. The sight of Reid taking Geoffrey’s cock, the feel of it, the noises Reid makes, Geoffrey wants to remember all of it as clearly as he can. 

Reid’s face is some mixture of pleasure and discomfort, but the way his head is thrown back, the way he doesn’t stop, makes Geoffrey think the pleasure is winning out. 

Soon enough Reid is seated on Geoffrey’s lap again. Geoffrey feels Reid clench around him, as if testing the fit. It makes the stillness even harder to bear, but then Reid rises up, pushes down again, the friction so impossibly perfect that Geoffrey feels on edge almost instantly. Only the freezing cold seeping through his trousers and into his skin saves him from spilling during those first few thrusts. 

They both get used to it, though, and Geoffrey tightens his hold on Reid’s hips, pulls him down with more force. Reid too keeps moving faster and faster, low moans falling from his lips, interspersed by growls when Geoffrey pulls him down harder than he probably should. Reid doesn’t seem to mind though, going by the way his face is almost flushed, his hands clutching at Geoffrey’s shoulders. 

It doesn’t take long, both of them too impatient and going too hard too fast. 

Geoffrey feels Reid’s body tighten around him and he wants Reid to go first, wants to see it on his face, but he can’t– He pulls Reid down as hard as he can and holds him, rocks up as much, as little as their position allows, and spills deep inside Reid. A flash of heat rushes all over his skin, and when it fades, Geoffrey is still hard, almost feels he could keep going. Then with a muffled moan Reid tries to move and Geoffrey flinches at the too-much-not-enough ache that punches through him. 

Geoffrey holds him still, puts a hand on Reid’s cock, strokes him as fast as his suddenly heavy arms let him. He still gets to watch Reid’s blissful face as he comes, spills over Geoffrey’s hand with a silent, “ _Yes_.” 

Then Reid buries his face into Geoffrey’s shoulder and they stay that way for a minute, two, three. Maybe more – it takes an unexpectedly long while before Geoffrey starts feeling uncomfortable with the closeness. Almost like he has some sense for it, Reid leans back just before Geoffrey starts thinking up ways to get out of their embrace. 

They disentangle and put their clothes to rights as silently as they got them to that disheveled state. 

When they’re both dressed again, Geoffrey looks at Reid with some apprehension at what he’ll find. He shouldn’t have – Reid seems to have chosen _now_ to become flustered by the whole thing. 

Or maybe not – he seems to regain his senses soon enough. 

Perhaps this is something Geoffrey is doing against some secret set of rules as well, looking Reid in the eye and not offering up some excuse that would explain away what they’ve just done. He might, truth be told, if he had any such excuse in mind. There isn’t anything but the obvious here between them, though, and it’s too late for any pretext. All Geoffrey can do now is hope for secrecy, and in that at least he knows he hasn’t much to worry about – Reid has just as much if not more to lose by anyone finding out. No one from the guard would believe Geoffrey involved in anything having to do with a leech. 

He understands some of Reid’s awkwardness, when he tries to think of what to say, how to move this night somewhere, anywhere else, away from the knowledge of what Reid sounds like when he’s being fucked. Away from knowing that Geoffrey would love to hear it again. He certainly will in his dreams from now on. 

“You wanted to talk,” Geoffrey says, not quite a question, but Reid still answers as if it were. 

“I, yes. Indeed I did.” There’s a hesitance in Reid’s voice and his posture, like he might say more, but in the end he just repeats once more, “Yes.” 

“Well,” Geoffrey says, and then spreads his arms for effect, “here I am, all _yours_.” 

At that Reid’s eyes glint dangerously. For a moment he considers Geoffrey carefully, almost warily. What he expects to find Geoffrey has no idea. After a too long moment of stillness, Reid steps closer, puts his hand on Geoffrey’s jaw and pauses again. Once he’s sure Geoffrey’s not about to protest, Reid leans in for a kiss, tamer and more languid than before. Once again, Geoffrey lets him. 

When they break apart, instead of stepping back, Reid stays, licks Geoffrey’s lips. Then the span of skin just under Geoffrey’s lower lip. Oh. There’s blood on his face, running down from his lips, from the cuts left by Reid’s fangs. 

Reid stills, as if he’s only now realizing what he’s done. 

Geoffrey should be disgusted by this, if nothing else. _This_ is what Reid is – a beast. None of what they’ve done has changed it. They’re too close for Geoffrey to see Reid’s expression. He can make a guess, though. There’s guilt, surely, and bloodlust, very likely, as moments pass and Reid doesn’t move back. Neither does Geoffrey. 

“Go on. Are you about to leave me to clean up your mess?” Geoffrey taunts. He has no use for Reid’s guilt. 

Already not moving, Reid manages to somehow freeze up even more. He doesn’t stay that way for long. That permission seems to be all he needs to get back to licking blood off Geoffrey’s face. And Geoffrey lets him. 

He would let Reid do all kinds of things, as he’s finding out tonight. 


End file.
